


Objectively

by ionsquare



Series: The Canvas Was Free [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/pseuds/ionsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott have a very active sex life for being teenagers, but Scott’s a werewolf, and Stiles needs to work on his own stamina. Which is why Stiles uses Harry Styles as an experiment, mentally calling it ‘The Stilinski Stamina Masturbation Variable’ or, ‘How Long Can Stiles Rest Between Jerkoff Sessions Before He Goes Brain Dead or Dies From Dehydration.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objectively

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this 5 months ago, and only now felt inclined to post it. Please note that I have _never_ tried the experiment Stiles does here. What I'm saying is: masturbate safely. Also, I'm not a medical expert, so I'm fairly certain guys need more of a resting period between jerk off sessions. 
> 
> No Harry Styles posters were harmed in the creation of this fic.

At first it starts out as no big thing, because objectively, Harry Styles is pretty fucking hot, and objectively, Stiles appreciates and recognizes that. You know, like the first time he saw Derek Hale, and objectively, Derek is very hot, but then he turns all broody, grumpy gus (for valid reasons, most of the time). Or, you know, like Isaac Lahey, and objectively Stiles thinks Isaac is hot, but fuck, Isaac is such a giant asshole and kind of a creep, but not Peter Hale creepy. Nobody is Peter Hale creepy.

And then there’s Stiles’ bossy boyfriend, Scott McCall, who is just hot, smoking hot and completely fucking beautiful when he’s stretched out on top of Stiles. Fucking Stiles into the bed, into the floor, giving him back burn, ass burn, knee burn - entire goddamn body burn.

Objective attractiveness, that’s the point here. Objectively, Harry Styles is pretty fucking hot, but Stiles doesn’t want to have sex with him; he only wants to be fucked through the floor by Scott McCall.

Which brings the point to this: Stiles has a problem, and that problem is constantly jerking off to Harry Styles. Stiles will get an itch, and he’s suddenly forty-five minutes into Google image searching “Harry Styles skinny jeans” and masturbating his cock off his body and coming so hard he’s shaking afterward. One time he shot come right onto his collarbone, and Stiles swears up and down he saw shooting stars; fucking Biblical ejaculation.

And that’s when Stiles is at the mall one day and finds a poster that is almost the exact size of his closet door. When he got back home that day it was a literal walk of shame past his dad who asked Stiles what the poster was for, what it was a poster of, and why Stiles, at the age of seventeen, was still at a point in his life where he bought posters for his room.

"I can’t ask questions about the poster?"

"Dad, it’s just a stupid poster."

"Stiles, if it were just a poster, it wouldn’t be as tall as you."

"It’s just a poster!" Stiles said shrilly.

And maybe Stiles was careful when he unrolled Harry Styles, and even more careful and precise when he put the poster putty on his door, and carefully hung Harry Styles up on the inside of his closet. Stiles was so precise that he took the poster down four times before aligning it just right, and then rubbed his face on Harry Styles’ crotch; Jesus Christ, he’s so glad to be an only child.

It’s been two weeks since he bought the poster, and Stiles has spent every single day coming home from school jerking off on Harry Styles. He barrels up the stairs to his room, throws aside his backpack, pulls open the door to his closet, sits on the old pile of musty clothes that he still hasn’t taken to Goodwill, and spends at least thirty minutes coming his brains out through his ears.

Today, though, Scott shows up.

"Stiles?" Scott’s muffled voice calls from his bedroom.

Stiles stuffs a semi-clean pair of socks in his mouth and shoots come all over Harry Styles just as Scott opens the closet. Stiles makes a squeaking sound and winds up on his back, dick still leaking, pants shoved down around his ankles.

"Jesus Christ, Stiles, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Scott," Stiles spits out the socks. "Hey. I am totally not covering Harry Styles in my jizz right now."

"But, you kinda are?" Scott’s gaze cuts to the poster, looking at it in wide-eyed wonder. "Dude, this poster is covered in so much come, how long have you been doing this?"

Stiles stands up, awkwardly pulling his pants back on.

"I’ve had the poster for two weeks-"

"Jesus Christ, Stiles," Scott whispers.

"I still only want you fucking me through the floor!"

"What are you talking about?" Scott squints, confused.

"Well, you know, objectively, Harry Styles is very-" Stiles looks at the poster, already getting hard again, but he quickly looks back at Scott. "Very hot. But that’s it! I don’t want him to fuck me, and I don’t want to fuck him, I only… I only want you to fuck me."

Scott blinks. “Okay?”

"You’re not — You’re not jealous?"

"Why the hell would I be jealous of poster?" Scott steps up to him. "You’re not planning to leave me for him are you?"

"Never!" Stiles gasps, corner of his mouth curling up. "You’re into it, aren’t you? I can see you trying not to smell my spunk."

Scott rolls his eyes, but Stiles sees his cheeks redden a little.

"You have nothing to worry about," Stiles murmurs, wrapping his arms around Scott, nipping that crazy, crooked jaw of his.

It only goes downhill from there.

Stiles and Scott have a very active sex life for being teenagers, but Scott’s a werewolf, and Stiles needs to work on his own stamina. Which is why Stiles uses Harry Styles as an experiment, mentally calling it ‘The Stilinski Stamina Masturbation Variable’ or, ‘How Long Can Stiles Rest Between Jerkoff Sessions Before He Goes Brain Dead or Dies From Dehydration.’

Thankfully it’s the weekend, and Stiles can spend his Saturday looking up One Direction interviews and only playing and constantly rewinding the bits where Harry’s talking, making noises, interjecting random bits and comments, or anything else fucking sexy he happens to do. Right now Stiles is paused on one interview, and this is the third jerk off session in twenty minutes. It hasn’t gone too well. Stiles took a four minute rest while he quickly searched for another video, getting a chub when he hit play and Harry was the one who started speaking first, but Stiles didn’t take into account that he wouldn’t come as much so soon, so he’d not-so-valiantly shot off three tiny spurts and collapsed against his computer chair.

Then he took a six minute rest, found another video, and now his dick is burning which makes him blindly reach for the lube, and yeah, that’s good, it’s really good. His toes curl into the carpet when he hears Harry saying Niall’s name and fuck, fuck, fuck that gets him right behind his bellybutton, and he’s shaking as he comes. His hand is so wet and sticky, and his throat is dry as cotton, but this is all for his stamina.

He’s taking another six minute rest when he happens to find the video that he’ll later call ‘The Biggest Religious Experience of His and His Dick’s Entire Sex Life.’ It’s a Pepsi commercial, but holy shitsnacks, there’s something about the husky tone in Harry’s voice, the coy fucking whistling, and Jesus Christ, who told him to wear that brown jacket?

Stiles hits replay over and over and over until he comes so hard his vision goes spotty and he just slumps in his chair, fucking come-exhausted, hand wet with lube, dick red and chafing.

"Jesus Christ, Stiles!" Scott says from somewhere behind Stiles.

Stiles blinks his eyes open, blearily gazing up at Scott.

"Heeeey," Stiles slurs, sex drunk. “How long you been here?"

"Long enough to watch you come yourself stupid," Scott says, picking up the washcloth Stiles had set out. "Stiles, we need to talk about this."

"No we don’t," Stiles sighs, flexing his toes. "M’totally fine."

"You’re really dehydrated, and there’s a massive wet spot under your desk," Scott states, patting Stiles’ forehead. "How long have you been masturbating?"

Stiles squints at the clock on his laptop.

"Shit! I almost went an hour, Scotty, why’d you stop me?"

"C’mon," Scott tugs Stiles’ boxers back in place. "Let’s get some food and water in you."

"Why don’t you take my boxers off and fuck my brains out?" Stiles presses up against Scott, licking his lips. "M’working on my stamina. The Stilinski Stamina Masturbation Variable, I call it."

Scott shakes his head at Stiles. “I’ll fuck you when I know you won’t pass out on me.”

Stiles drinks a pitcher of water and eats two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a pack of Ho-Hos.

And then he’s dragging Scott upstairs, dick hard and leaking, and needing to be fucked.

"Can… can Harry watch?" Stiles pants against Scott’s mouth.

"Fuck, you’re so kinky when it comes to Harry Styles."

Stiles grins, pulling off his clothes, throwing the lube at Scott before crawling on his hands and knees to the center of his bed. Before joining him on the bed, though, Scott opens Stiles’ closet, and Stiles’ dick starts to plump up and oh god, this is really doing it for him, fuck his entire life. Scott’s working three fingers into his ass, and Stiles might be getting slutty about it, because goddamn his boyfriend’s fingers in his ass will always be one of the hottest things to ever break his brain.

"You good?" Scott asks, voice near growling.

Stiles’ has his face pressed into the mattress, turning his head so he can answer, but he just winds up drooling when Scott keeps rubbing his prostate.

"Unnnffgg," Stiles grunts. "Fuck me, shit, just fuck me."

"Turn and look at Harry," Scott orders.

"Oh god, fuck yes," Stiles does as he’s told, eyes looking Harry Styles up and down, crying out when Scott thrusts into him. Stiles can tell it’s going to be a fast fuck because Scott is just pounding into Stiles’ ass, and Stiles knows that Scott's getting off on this, to the idea of Harry Styles watching them fuck — and Stiles loses all train of thought.

The only sound Stiles can focus on is Scott grunting and groaning as he fucks into him, and Stiles can hear the sharp slap of skin on skin, but that sound from Scott, it anchors him, it makes him feel sexy and good, and the fact that someone like Scott wants to fuck Stiles does things to Stiles deep down.

Stiles keeps staring at Harry Styles and fuck, his dick is steadily leaking come now, and Scott gives one good thrust, completely burying himself in Stiles, and Stiles arches his back and undulates his hips as Scott slowly rocks forward.

"Jesus — Fuck, Stiles, the way you’re riding my dick," Scott groans.

Stiles grins to himself, clenching on Scott’s dick, and that brings Scott to the brink just as Stiles starts quickly stroking his own dick.

"Wait, wait," Scott says, smacking Stiles’ hand away, gripping Stiles’ dick at the base. "You keep rolling those hips and I’ll tell you when to come."

Stiles whines but does as he’s told, rolling his hips as Scott comes inside him, and Stiles knows there’s a lot of come this time because he can feel it sliding out of him, down his balls as Scott pulls out, tapping his dick against Stiles’ fucked out hole.

"Scott, Scott..." Stiles begs, eyes still on Harry Styles.

"Think about him saying your name," Scott whispers in his ear.

When Scott’s hand lets go of his dick Stiles comes so hard he almost blacks out, but Scott’s still anchoring him, those warm hands rubbing up and down his back, gentling him through his orgasm. He rolls Stiles over, and Stiles is still trembling with aftershocks, dick twitching.

"Oh my god, that was the best orgasm ever," Stiles says later when he can actually form words.

"Wait until I take you to see _This Is Us_ ," Scott tells him.

Stiles is already hard just thinking about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr; archiving here for reasons. 
> 
> There's quite of bit of projecting here with Stiles, because I had such a hilariously visceral reaction the first time I heard Harry speak. (And it was that Pepsi commercial.) I'm a very casual 1D fan, so I felt like posting this to spread the love. And it's been a bit since I've posted any kind of porn. 
> 
> Thanks to Laura for the quick read through! Some of the blame for this belongs to Megs.
> 
> Me on [tumblr](http://ionsquare.tumblr.com/); let's discuss how much Dylan likes 1D.


End file.
